


Bad Nights

by Inkpot



Series: Port in a Storm [1]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, more like panic prevention, would put panic attacks but not quite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 13:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkpot/pseuds/Inkpot
Summary: Two detectives check up on their thief after a bad heist.





	Bad Nights

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, this was not what I meant to write. I had an idea, even had some images in my head, then sat down and wrote this instead. I blame overthinking for everything. If I hadn't considered what would lead to the first scene, I would have written the original thing.
> 
> Ah well. Have this barely-edited thing while I go off and write what I originally meant to write. Let me know you see anything wonky. Like I said, barely edited.
> 
> Quick note: Hakuba doesn't know Conan's real identity, Conan figured out KID's and decided to keep quiet.

It had been a bad night. Nobody could dispute that, and nobody was inclined to chase KID too vigorously. Most of the task force was more focused on making sure Conan was alright, and everyone else was concerned about the blood that had clearly not come from the child. The detectives fell in this latter category.

Hakuba and Conan exchanged looks periodically, discussing the situation as best they could under such circumstances. When they finally got a moment to talk, there was a long silence while they gathered their thoughts. Hakuba was the one to finally break it.

“Pardon my nagging, but humor me for a moment: you are alright?”

Conan took the question with less irritation than the boy usually would. “Mostly. Some bruising, nothing that won’t heal in a week or two. Could be worse.”

Easily. It was far too easy to imagine how it could have gone. The image still burned behind Hakuba’s eyes: a dark figure clutching Conan’s arm, KID’s hand outstretched and eyes almost wide enough to see the whites despite distance, the cold glint of a gun...

Yes, it could have been much worse. But he wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

“By the way, I’ve been meaning to introduce you to a friend of mine.” To anyone else, the apparent nonsequitor would seem like Hakuba trying to change the subject for a vulnerable young mind. Conan, on the other hand, would catch the hint. “He claims to be KID’s biggest fan, and has some interesting insights into his mind, if you can get past the fervent support. If you want, we can meet with him sometime next week.”

“Or tonight.” Conan merely shrugged at Hakuba’s surprised look. “I’ve known about him for a while. He’s aware, too, or he’s a lot less perceptive than we both know he is. So let’s check on this friend of yours; he’ll be chomping at the bit to hear about what happened after the reporters get hold of this.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. Hakuba made arrangements for Conan to stay the night - luckily the incident remained unknown to the general public, including the boy’s guardians - and called for a cab to Ekoda.

 

The pair stood before a dark, silent house. Neither could name the reason for their hesitation, but they were nonetheless reluctant to enter. Conan finally walked forward and knocked, loud as he could with his strength.

Nobody answered. Hakuba tried the door on a whim and found it unlocked. Exchanging looks, the pair entered together.

The house was nearly as quiet inside as out. A thin thread of light leaked down from upstairs, the only sign of life thus far. They removed their shoes and went upstairs.

A faint whimper led them to the source of the light, a small bathroom. Hakuba pushed the door open, previous hesitation all but gone, to reveal a startled young man still wearing part of KID’s outfit.

“H-Hakuba?” Kuroba managed. “What are you- how did you get in here?” He shifted positions, attempting to conceal the discarded items behind him – namely KID’s hat, jacket, gloves, and monocle.

Hakuba ignored Kuroba’s comment and the evidence spread across the floor in favor of kneeling at his side, ignoring the hiss as he took Kuroba’s arm. The darkened slash through the blue fabric of his shirt confirmed his fears: someone had, in fact, successfully taken a shot at KID. A _consistently nonviolent_ thief. If he ever found out who was responsible for this…

Some of Hakuba’s thoughts must have shown on his face, based on how unnerved Kuroba looked. He forced himself to calm down a bit – no reason to give him _more_ reason to be jumpy – and focus on the situation at hand. “Can you take your shirt off?”

“Huh?” Kuroba blinked, clearly surprised. At not being arrested on sight? Probably. “Uh. Maybe.” He used his free arm to unbutton the remaining buttons on the shirt. The top half were already undone, and it didn’t take long before he was able to gingerly pull the fabric off first one shoulder, then the other. He hesitated only briefly before tossing it on the pile with the rest of his clothing.

Hakuba took hold of his arm once more, carefully not to tug at the still sluggishly bleeding wound. “Looks like a graze. This could have been much worse, had your attacker better aim.”

“Or if you had worse reflexes.” They both jumped and turned to see Conan leaning against the door frame. The boy shrugged. “After being shot at a certain number of times, you learn not to be where the bullet is. Right?”

Kuroba made a choked noise. Hakuba looked at him in time to catch an abortive hand movement toward Conan and a flash of desperation in his eyes, only barely tainted by apprehension.

Conan’s flat, unchildlike manner softened a bit. He squeezed past Hakuba and took Kuroba’s good hand, placing it against his cheek with the faintest of smiles. “It’s okay now. Everyone’s okay.”

There was a beat of silence before Kuroba wrapped his good arm around Conan and pulled him close, burying his nose in the boy’s hair. He let out a shaky exhale and visibly stopped himself from using both arms to hold even tighter. Conan didn’t even protest, just adjusted himself so reaching the injury would be less awkward.

Hakuba did his best to not disturb their embrace while cleaning and patching up the wound. Once he was done, however, he nudged them until Kuroba stood and went to his room. He clung to Conan’s hand like a lifeline while Hakuba checked drawers and pulled out a worn shirt and pants Kuroba usually wore as pajamas.

Getting him to change wasn’t too difficult. He was at least aware enough to change clothes on his own, though he was reluctant to look away from Conan. As soon as he was dressed, though, he practically collapsed into bed with Conan held against him.

Again, the child didn’t struggle or protest, merely snuggled closer while carefully avoiding Kuroba’s injured arm. Hakuba thanked whatever deity might be listening that Conan was so mature for his age. Having someone else who understood the situation was probably keeping all of them a little calmer.

Speaking of calm… He looked around until he spotted a clock, grimacing at the hour. Better to just stay the night, but Kuroba wasn’t exactly in a state to ask…

“Stay.”

He turned toward the quiet voice, barely more than a whisper. A pair of deep indigo eyes stared sleepily up at him. “‘S too late to go home. An’ there’s room here.” He sort of twitched one hand toward the extra space between him and the edge of the bed.

Hakuba hesitated for a moment, looking down to meet Conan’s gaze. At the boy’s nod, he carefully settled on the edge of the bed before curling around the others and pulling a sheet over the whole pile.

As they settled into a comfortable position, something in Hakuba that he hadn’t even realized was tense finally relaxed. They were all okay, nobody too seriously hurt, and they could sort out whatever weirdness came through in the morning.

Because there would be weirdness, after such a night. But he couldn’t bring himself to care as he drifted off to sleep faster than he ever had on heist nights.  


**Author's Note:**

> Now I'm tempted to write that awkward morning instead of doing what I'm supposed to be doing. Thanks inspiration fairy. :T


End file.
